


Pull That Trigger

by yourejustsoloud



Category: Rick Sanchez - Fandom, Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourejustsoloud/pseuds/yourejustsoloud





	Pull That Trigger

“Yea, yea. I get it…” He took the toothpick from his mouth and leaned in closer.

“...I just don’t give a fuck,” he growled.

You tried to keep from losing your composure as your thighs tightened together. You smiled slyly and took a sip from the martini he had bought you just 5 minutes prior. 

Buying a drink for a woman sitting alone at an empty hotel bar should seem like a worn-out cliche. The audacity to order for you without even knowing what you like should seem chauvinistic. The way he sat down next to you, without prompt or permission, should be insulting. But instead, you were intrigued at this big-dick energy he was exuding. And as soon as he looked you dead in the eye, smirking without a word, you were even more than intrigued. You were turned on.

“Who would ever leave such a hot piece of ass like you sitting all alone...” he whispered behind you before you had even felt him there. His warm breath on the nape of your neck sent ice down your back and heat between your legs. His pink suit brushed against your bare arm as he took the seat next to you without even bothering to ask. It felt like silk and he smelled like expensive cologne and Cuban cigars.

He’d snapped down the length of the marble top bar towards the bartender. They exchanged a knowing nod and he immediately set to work on a dirty martini. He walked swiftly over and set it down. He even seemed to bow slightly as he stepped away. Mr. “big-dick energy” grinned as he pushed the glass delicately towards you.

“...but then again,” he said as he seemed to give you a once-over behind his mirrored shades, “you look like no moron alive would stand you up. Am I right, dollface?” 

You slowly looked him up and down as if contemplating his question, amused.

“I’m working.” You answered matter-of-factly, smiling. There was a pause as you watched your reflection in the sunglasses he apparently wore ironically... being that it was midnight and indoors at a darkened hotel bar. 

You never broke eye contact as you pulled the martini’s olive off its toothpick with your teeth. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. He took the toothpick from you and put it in his own teeth and rolled it back and forth, fucking you with his eyes. 

“Well, I’d be willing to pay you double of whatever it is you’re making to get you to, eh, clock-out early...” He leaned back in his chair, still unapologetically looking you up and down.

“I doubt you could afford my services… buttercup,” you said slyly. You steered your chair away from him as if rejecting the offer; enjoying this impromptu back-and-forth. 

Just as you expected, he wasn’t accustomed to being turned down. He shot back up straight and turned towards you. Before he could counter, he noticed your grin in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar. In one swift motion, he grabbed the underside of your chair and pulled, scooting you closer. 

“Maybe not,” he said in the mirror’s reflection, “but I bet if I get you any wetter you’ll come back to my room for free.”

You held your breath to suppress a moan. You wouldn’t have dared give him the satisfaction.

After a moment you were able to smile back at him with confidence.

“Well…”

“...Rick.” he interjected. 

“Rick,” you acknowledged, “that’s a very tempting offer. But like I said.... I’m working.” You lifted the glass to him dismissively and smirked, knowing he wasn’t going to take this rejection. You knew he wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. You just wanted to see if he’d beg.

He didn’t. He didn’t have to. You knew it. And he knew it.

He didn’t give a fuck. He just wanted to win.

And as he growled that very fact into your ear, he sealed the deal when his hand grazed softly on the inside of your exposed thigh.

You set down the martini and stood up slowly, straightening your skirt. 

“Well, Rick,” you said, pushing your chair in, “let’s go see if your dick is as big as that ego.”

He eyed you up and down one last time before putting a hundred dollar bill on the bar. He took you by the waist and led you slowly to the lobby towards the elevators. 

He gave the front desk clerk a knowing nod and pushed the button. Your high heels clicked as you stepped inside the empty lift. He stepped in after you and pressed the button marked PH. The penthouse. You weren’t surprised in the slightest. He stood right next to you, the fingers of his left hand trailing down your spine and stopping at your lower back. You waited for the typical cupping of your ass with the palm of his hand, but you should have known by now this guy, this Rick, wasn’t typical. He was teasing you. He wanted to see you break.

He leaned into your neck as the elevator dinged your arrival.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispered.

You were dizzy with arousal as he led you through the double doors to his penthouse suite. You tried to keep the upper hand as you set down your bag. It was unadulterated imaculance. From the marble floors to the high ceilings, this place was built with fortunes. Despite being in awe, you refused look impressed by the extravagance around you. 

You weren’t looking at him, but you could feel his eyes burrowing into you. You then turned to him as he tossed his suit coat onto the back of a pristine white sofa. 

Your move.

You walked passed him, maintaining eye contact as you made your way to his wet bar. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at your boldness. You poured yourself a drink.

You continued looking around as you circled the whiskey neat in your hand. You took a sip, feigning disinterest. As you turned back to face him, he was heading towards you, stopping only inches away. His height forced you to look up and meet his eyes as he stared down at you. He watched you silently as you took another sip from your glass. You stared directly back.

There was a tense pause as he refused to break contact. You smirked up at him and in the most sarcastic voice you could muster...

“...so, is it just the _one_ floor?”

That did it. He broke.

He grabbed the highball from your hand and tossed it aside, pressing you hard into the wall behind you before the glass had time to shatter. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, his hands tangled roughly in your hair. You could feel his erection as you grabbed his hips and leaned him into you. His mouth moved to the nape of your neck and his hands moved slowly down your ribcage. You tilted your head to the side as he slowed down. Before you could even catch your breath, however, he was pressing his grip into the back of your thighs and you gasped. You were being picked up and slammed back into the wall again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him as he bit your shoulder, making you groan in ecstasy. 

Without effort, you were thrown on the sofa. He fell to his knees on the plush fur rug and grabbed your hips to be eye level with your pussy. Your skirt was already pulled up, exposing the fact that you hadn’t been wearing panties this entire time. He stared at your mound as he loosened his tie; like a meal he was dying to dig into. You didn’t even have time to prop up on your elbows to watch before his mouth was on you. The noises he was making were obscene as he devoured you. He groaned into you as he lapped at your entrance and used his thumb to lift your hood, exposing your clit. You were no longer watching as you fell back and screamed. You could feel him chuckle as he moved his mouth up to suck on the sensitive bud. Lightning burst behind your eyelids as he slid two fingers in effortlessly, his tongue never losing contact. 

You felt an orgasm building as your walls tightened around his fingers. He could feel it, too, as he hummed approvingly and thrust in and out of you faster. Your body folded forward as you crashed, crying out and grabbing a fistful of his hair. 

He slowed down his assault and lifted his head to watch you ride out your orgasm. His fingers were still inside you, but he thrust them slowly... in and out as he smiled up at you... like the cat that caught the canary. After a few agonizing moments, you were finally able to catch your breath and open your eyes. He removed his fingers slowly and put both in his mouth, unapologetically sucking as he looked right at you. 

When he had licked them clean, he stood up and took off his tie. You sat up and he offered his hand to lift you off the couch. Your legs wobbled as you stood up and you realized you were barefoot. Looking around for your shoes, you wondered when they were thrown off. Rick was making his way to the wet bar, grinning as if he had won a bet with himself.

“So, now that we got that out of the way,” he said as two ice cubes clinked into his glass. He reached for a scotch and eyed the label, deciding against it and choosing another. He picked a rum instead, filling the glass halfway. 

“How much for the rest of the night, dollface?” He said as he looked down to pour his drink. He screwed the lid back on and bent down to put it back on the bottom shelf, his back to you.

“Oh, I’m not a prostitute, Rick.” You said behind him.

He scoffed quietly to himself as he closed the cabinet doors and straightened up. “Oh yea, dollface,” He smiled and rolled his eyes as he began to turn around and face you. 

“Then what’s your 'job'?”

Before he could react to the gun you had aimed at him, you smirked.

“You are.”

The silencer muffled the gunshot and the crystal highball shattered as Rick’s head flew back. It was a painless dead shot right between his eyes.

Once the ringing stopped echoing off the high ceilings and crystal chandelier, you lowered your pistol and sighed. You walked over to the table and put the gun back in your bag. Stepping over Rick’s lifeless form, you looked yourself over in the mirror behind the now bloodied wet bar. You replaced some loose strands of hair that were in disarray. You weren’t surprised you looked a mess. Especially after the amazing head and finger-fucking you just received.

“Call Peters.” 

“Calling…” the robotic voice of your phone responded back. You had it propped on your shoulder as you checked your lipstick in a compact. It only rang once.

“Peters,” she answered.

“Rowan checking in. Imposter D-69 has been eliminated.”

“Excellent,” Peters crooned, “see you soon.”


End file.
